A Ghoul in Naruto (rewrite)

Warning

You hated this.

This feeling of- of hallowness- yet so full of yearning almost as if you were missing and desperate for someone you had'nt know. Perhaps never will. You knew. Of course you knew. You were not and idiot. But it didnt stop you from hoping.

For hoping for love.

For wanting a mother's love.

For wanting your mother.

It hurt. It hurt a lot.

So you pushed it down. To the darkest corner of your mind like father told you to do whenever you felt things you didnt like.

"Suppress it and it'll be gone. Push it down. Purge it.

"Like the people that go in the red room?"

"Like the people that go in the red room."

He smiled the smile you were so used to. The hollow dark empty smile you'd come to both fear and perhaps miss in the future if it gets brighter. When it gets brighter. (You dont know if you know it will or if you just managed to convince yourself it will.)
When the shadows only crawl in the corner of your eyes instead of swallowing you whole and taking you straight to its darkest deepest belly that you dont want to go to. That you dont want to ever return to.

Its heavy.

The missing hollow hole in the shape of a mother in your chest.

The hole bleeding in pain yet no blood coming out of it. Painful, seeping, heavy- sniff.

Ugh, not again.

Your puffy itchy eyes narrowed in remorse at yourself. You've already cried yourself to sleep last night. I thought I was done? Well, apparently not.

The usual fluidity of your kata that father pummeled into you isnt that fluid anymore. Hand suddenly losing strength, focus easily stolen by whatever came to your sad little head, and eyes blurring just about every minute.

Father would be pissed if I dont get it right by the time he returns.

Your shudder interrupts the swift movement of your hand once more and you will yourself to be more steady. To hit harder. To be more swift. To be perfect.

Perhaps then, father would- would-
would what? What would he do if you got it perfect? Would he smile? Would he-would he finally look at you?

Maybe not.

Maybe not.

But you dont want him to sneer at you either. Dont want him to be disgusted by your own failure. To feel the gaze he sent to those who'd slighted him. For those he wished were dead.

So you'll be better.

To be what he wants.

Be perfect.

You wont wish for him to be glad. To be even a bit happy or delighted you were you.

"Wishing is for fools who cant do it themselves."

You're not a fool.

So you wont wish. You wont hope.

Not hope, no. Your face twisted into a deep scowl filled with so much hate that a kid your age shouldn't even have comprehended by then. Not that you'd know that little tidbit of information.

The wind tickles at your forearm when you dig it faster into the empty space. The space not filled with dummies. Not filled because you were too weak. Too weak to even be able to hit the metal dummy without injuring yourself. Weak weak weak weak weak- that's why he doesn't look at you.

The dull throb in your sensitive- only recently healed knuckles remind you.

Reminds you about how the twisting of the corner of his lips looked. The way his eyebrows bunched together tightly in remorse. About how his eyes darkened when your knuckles bled almost immediately.

Weak. Couldnt even punch a weak dummy. Useless.

•x•

He took 4 weeks and 3 days to get back.

You didnt care what he did in that time and there had been more times where he'd gone far longer than just a month.

But you were confused and hurt.

You didnt like the feeling. In fact, you despised it. The painthe pain, the heart wrenching pain that left you heavy and hollowandempty-that left you with this thing in your chest that didnt go away even when you scratched and scratched and scratched until it bled and you bled and blood was on the floor and the floor was stained brown withthebloodinyournails- (like when you ate but it wasnt theirs it was yours)

You hated it.

Fathers eyes were colder, he didnt try to smile for you, why? Was he like that before? You swore he wasnt (he gave you that empty smile all the time). Was he tired? No he would never be he's too strong to even consider that stupid.

He didnt give you that look before too.(He never looked at you.)

That look he gave you like you were there and he wasnt just looking past you.

You wanted him to look at you before, why aren't you happy? Ungrateful.

Ungrateful, despiseful hypocrite.

Did you do something bad? Was it you? Of course it was you but why what?

On the third long-suffering day of wondering what you did and why he wasnt like the father you had from before ( the change was small but it echoed big like an oncoming angry red-faced giant).

He talked. Not like the clipped orders he would give you when he had to tell you to do something, no, it wasnt like that. He talked.

"(Y/N)," his voice grave, "listen to me." And you did. You dropped everything you were doing from the moment before he called to you like he was gonna tell you something much more important than his whole work. (you secretly hoped it would be about your your mother.) And just stopped. And maybe your loud beating heart from the exhausting kata you immediately dropped when he spoke, stopped too.

You heard nothing and it was all white noise except his loud booming voice. You listened and waited like it was forever in cold sweat before he continued. (He didnt stop for longer than a second)

"If something happened to the base, find me." And he left. He walked away and left you with a deep fear weighing heavy in your stomach.

Was something gonna happen to the base?